The season of Lent has become something of an anachronism. The prevailing cultural understanding is largely that of a holdover season from the Middle Ages that persists within a handful of churches and manifests itself via a few smudged foreheads on Ash Wednesday and the occasional solemn co-worker who inexplicably denies herself chocolate for a month or so.
And then we throw in phrases from our Ash Wednesday liturgy like self-examination, repentance, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and self-denial; and then add these to this morning's Gospel about temptation in the wilderness by the Devil, one readily recognizes the disconnect with modern culture.
There are lots of ways for us to personally engage this phenomenon. We can agree with the larger culture that Lent is a holdover whose time has passed and ignore it. We can offer Lent a tip of the hat and give up desserts between now and Easter (just in case this will somehow, mysteriously, do God, or us, or somebody some good). Or we can see it as a season which reveals the wisdom of the church and whose ongoing existence for hundreds of years is grounded in truth, blessing and God.
Obviously, I prefer the last of these options. I've learned to take Lent quite seriously indeed, and have always been enriched by so doing.
Allow me to share one of my most pathetic Lenten experiences ever, by way of hopefully revealing that even our Lenten failures are rich opportunities for insight and growth. Both of our daughters were teenagers at the time, and they and my wife had been complaining (unreasonably, of course), that I had lately been grouchy and hard to get along with.
So guess what? I decided to give up being grouchy and hard to get along with for Lent, only I didn't tell them about it. I told them that they would figure out what my Lenten discipline was that year during the course of the forty days. Except they didn't. And when, on Easter, I told them what my discipline had been they just stared at me in disbelief. "No," they said, "we haven't noticed any change in your personality or behavior whatsoever." Obviously, Lent can be a time of big, recognizable changes, or a time of small, almost imperceptible ones.
So here we are. It's the first Sunday in another Lenten season. Are we taking a pass this year? Or thinking about giving up chocolate? Or being less grouchy? Or are we ready for more?
What if we measure our responses to Lent against Jesus' temptation in the wilderness by the Devil? Because Jesus has been fasting, and is therefore very hungry, the Devil tempts Jesus with bread. Because Jesus is in a weakened and humbled state, the Devil tempts Jesus with worldly glory and unlimited power. Because Jesus is in the state he's in because of God, the Devil tempts Jesus with putting God to the test, with seeing just how far God's love will really stretch. And because Jesus is, well, Jesus, he resists and overcomes these temptations.
Because we are people of this modern culture, the Devil encourages us to ignore Lent altogether, or at the very least, to make some snap decisions about Lenten discipline that will allay our guilty consciences enough that we can largely ignore Lent thereafter. Because we are NOT Jesus, we must decide for ourselves regarding these various temptations.
We are relentlessly tempted toward behaviors that are not pleasing to God, pleasing to others, or good for anybody, just like we are tempted to disregard the Lenten season as an ecclesiastical relic. We are tempted to treat Jesus' forty days of temptation as ancient mythology. We are tempted to deny the reality of temptation.
The last line of today's Gospel is perhaps the most ominous. "When the Devil had finished every test, he departed from Jesus until an opportune time. . . until an opportune time." Temptations never end. They simply await a more opportune time.
Temptations are many and have ugly names like pride, covetousness, lust, envy, gluttony, anger and sloth. These seven traditional, deadly sins, and all their chums, are still around. Everything that would separate us from God, from our best selves, and from each other, awaits an opportune time. Lent reminds us, among other things, that we don't need God for a season, we need God always.
Lent isn't about the particular disciplines we take on for these forty days as much as it is about what these disciplines enable us to discover about God and ourselves. Prayer, fasting, almsgiving, self-denial and penitence are not ends in themselves. They are pathways to God. Even during that Lent when I tried in vain to give up being grouchy, my Lenten disciplines drew me closer to God, and therefore revealed to me (in ways that would not have occurred without my Lenten disciplines), that my imperfections did indeed hurt others. I also learned at a much deeper level that the only one who was perfect, who is perfect, and who successfully withstood every temptation, was also with me in my own wilderness of temptation and struggle. The risen Christ is always with us, always there to show us the way through, the way out, the way home, and to protect us on the journey. He's always there, but unless we turn to him, unless we regularly acknowledge his presence in our life, we never really give him a chance to change us, heal us, or lead us forward.
Did I really want to be less grouchy and easier to get along with that Lenten season years ago, or did I just want to seem so? Do we have the courage to face our demons, and to expose them to God's bright, curative light between now and Easter, or do we just want to appear to, because we are really afraid that the cure might destroy us, might leave us bereft of defenses and too exposed to God, others, and even ourselves? Are we afraid that if we really let God in, that God will so alter our lives that we will need to start over, regroup, give up or give away much of what currently defines us?
The Devil sees God, and Lent, for what they are and says to us, "Don't go there. Stay with me. You need bread. I've got it. Eat your fill. Just keep stuffing." The Devil sees God, and Lent, and says to us, "You deserve better. Let's go get it. If God were real, God would have treated you better and wouldn't be asking for all of this painful honesty and gut-wrenching change. Stick with me. Worship me. I got your back."
But God's Holy Spirit still beckons us to the wilderness where God waits to reveal our better selves to us. God awaits us there, to help us discover our better selves and embrace a better life; to help us be truly happy, free, and at peace with ourselves and others. Any who seek true wisdom should accept the invitation to observe a holy Lent. Those who do will discover God's Holy Spirit close by throughout, providing comfort, courage, peace and the new insights that are so desperately needed.
